You're My Home
by lizook
Summary: He still loved his job, but there was so much more to love here.


**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in the future

**A/N**: So this is another that's definitely on the 'so sweet you could get cavities' side; you've been warned. Many thanks to **firstofoct** and **forthecoast** for the suggestion and help brainstorming

**Disclaimer**: Suits doesn't belong to me. Title from the Billy Joel song of the same name.

* * *

Groaning, he sits down on the floor, twisting his long legs in multiple attempts to get comfortable. Donna's sprawled on the couch behind him, flipping through a magazine. He can feel her suppress a laugh as he crosses his legs Indian style, almost banging his knee against the base of the floor lamp.

If you would have told him five years ago he wouldn't even be considering work (ok, there was still an occasional brief or contract he reviewed) on the weekends, he would have laughed in your face. But life changed, priorities shifted.

He still loved—thrived on—his job, but there was so much more to love here.

"I'm never..." He scoots back so he's resting against the arm of the couch, his knee screaming in protest already. "Never going to be able to get up."

"You always say that, Daddy."

This time he's the one holding back a laugh as their five-year-old pushes her tea set to the side and starts passing out cards. This is one of the new weekend traditions he loves: low stakes poker with goldfish crackers as their chips.

Donna's feet press against his shoulders and he sighs, leaning into the touch as he organizes his hand. "I told you we should invest in a small table, old man."

"I'm not buying anything with 'some assembly required' in giant letters on the box." He reaches up, scooping a pile of crackers from the coffee table and begins divvying them up between Olivia and himself.

The little girl brushes her auburn hair from her eyes, scrunches her nose and shifts her cards. She nods to let him know she's ready before reaching down and popping a cracker in her mouth.

"Liv, you can't eat the chips. You have less to bet with if you do and then our game won't last very long."

She starts giggling and for a minute he's completely disarmed by the sheer amusement on her face, the way her mouth curls like his and her head tilts just like Donna's.

"...silly. Uncle Mike and I played with this last night." And much to his surprise, she shoves aside Sir Fluffs-A-Lot and pulls out a healthy stack of fives and some quarters. "I'm gonna buy a puppy."

"We already have one of those." He mutters as Donna laughs behind him. Turning, he lifts an eyebrow at her in a silent plea: _a little help here_.

She shrugs, happiness dancing in her eyes. "You're the one who taught her."

He's about to respond something about how they've always been in this together when there's a slight tugging on his shirt sleeve and he realizes Olivia's already become impatient.

She gets _that_ from him, too.

"Hey, no cheating!"

"Never!" She draws a card and grins over at him as he contemplates his next move.

"You know, it's not nice to con people, honey. It's not fair to them and it could backfire on—" His words fade away as he sees Donna in the way her little brow furrows, how her fingers tap against her knee. Even at five she knows what a hypocritical statement it is. "Ok, it is fun." He trades in two cards and watches as she studies hers. "Especially when it's Uncle Mike, but you have to be careful and—"

He stops, shaking his head and tossing his cards to the floor as he realizes he has to fold.

"Got it." She sweeps her winnings towards her, smiling as he starts shuffling the deck.

Donna's magazine hits the coffee table and the next thing he knows she's sliding onto the floor next to him. Her hand squeezes his briefly as he sets the pile of cards on the floor and she grins, shoulder pressing against his. "You need me to take some of the heat off? Or are two Paulsen women too scary..."

He laughs, his hand brushing against her thigh as he presses a quick kiss to her cheek before reaching behind her and grabbing another pile of crackers from the table. "Ok, Liv, deal your mom in."


End file.
